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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378009">pl WIPs 2019</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSebach/pseuds/JoSebach'>JoSebach</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>pl WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>WIPs 2019, wips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:08:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSebach/pseuds/JoSebach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>3 (or more?) professor Layton WIPs from 2019. 1. ??? [tw: implies self-harm]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>pl WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ???</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know, this is self-indulgent, but I don't care for once. English can be pretty bad, since it's from earlier times.</p><p>Yes, I was quite depressed, I guess</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Only now I've realized the true meaning of self-harm.<br/>
My first hypothesis came after Randall's fall: at that time I felt worthless and an insult to everyone's existence. I didn't deserve existence until I was brought to the hospital. For that I must thank Alphonse because, despite he wasn't <em>de iure</em> on my side, <em>de facto</em> he saved me. I still remember how much he was angry with me for my recklessness. "You can't just imagine how everyone is worried! -he firstly yelled at me, but then he softened- Be sensible, please. If you think we're worried because you're a bother, you can't be more wrong. We care. Really. Don't laugh." I stopped snickering, a tired smile over my face, faltering in a frown. Then in tears. I still can't stop apologizing to my parents for the worry I've caused 13 years ago.<br/>
I avoided making myself more harm after Clark's intervention, when I was so overwhelmed by feelings and guilt I was pointing a sharp pencil on my throat, my eyes tired, his even more, but his mind more brilliant than mine. "What are you doing? Just go to sleep, come on..." By his words and motion I realized he was oblivious of the actual situation. I still thank him in silence.<br/>
Then Claire arrived. I was afraid of knowing someone else at first, but my ice melted, letting me met her and know her deeper. We fell in.<br/>
But then she died.<br/>
And that's when I sank in the depression's grip, all my blades and anything sharp a possible weapon. Self-harm was not for guilt: it was a test. A gentleman is not suposed to show his weaknesses to anyone, not even to himself. Any cut was just a practice, to prove that yes, I'm still worthy for that title, for that name. For her love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Stoic phylosophy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is a contest behind. Try to find out!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since my early childhood my dream has always been astronomy. I have only few memories from those far years, but I still remember a child, 3 or 4, awake in one of the many sleepless nights, exploring the starry sky from his bedroom, sat on an old wooden chair, with his trustfully maybe-too-big telescope. That child wanted absolutely to explore the universe and its secrets and answers to impossible questions, but the thought of such a big journey always brought him great pain and loneliness, then again, he already felt alone, if it wasn't for another child, bigger than him, that was almost always by his side. Despite that, I no longer his face or his identity and neither his name is recollected in my memory. Something happened, making me delete all the events and the people that was involved with my life until age 4.<br/>I had never the chance to use that telescope and see the night from that window again. But the dream never faded.</p><p>My early recollection stabilizes in a different town, probably not my hometown, since I've always felt uncomfortable. Ma and Pa were always there for me. Despite their dedication and their will to make me happy, granting my wish, school didn't help: teachers'd given us too many homework and I was so naïve to help my classmates by preventing sleep for doing all the tasks and going to school earlier to help them with their many questions and doubts. I kept going well for some years, locking in my bedroom after arriving home, looking for concentration and quiet. My parents were really worried, since my routine didn't included going out with <em>friends</em>. What are friends and what for, anyway? At the time that word was unknown and the concept unacknowledged. If I was helping my classmates (and even senior classmates), it was because of... I don't know exactly how to explain it, but giving advices following my knowledge pleased me a lot.<br/>But the efforts were too much to bear: I almost failed an year. Ma and Pa were really worried, even if Lucille was really having an heart attack. When they talked to the teachers, they were speechless to those "despicable bullshits", so Pa called them. He went in my room, while mom was sleeping, at 2 am. I was just staring to the ceiling, sit on a chair, the desklamp on and books and sheets of paper scribbled by the tiredness. He took a nearby chair. I was knackered, but not asleep: with all my efforts I straightened my back, the eyesight rightly orrizontal, watching my father approaching.</p><p>"Oh sorry, I've woken you up. I'm slow and noisy." he chuckled, seeing my exaution by my eyelids.</p><p>"Worry not. I wasn't sleeping." and a yawn escaped my lips, not closed in time.</p><p>Always snickering quietly, he took from his pocket his glasses, after cleaning the lents with the sleeve, and analysed those notes. His eyebrows formed a frown. "Still doing homework?"</p><p>My eyes fell on the ground, feeling bitter taste of the shame. Strangely, it wasn't that unfamiliar.</p><p>He sighted, his gaze on me. "Son, I guess you already know what teachers have told us."</p><p>Silence was doing my dirty job. I'm a coward, other than stupid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ?!?!?!?!?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sure I'm going to use this part in the future with another pl fanfiction I've planned. Enjoy and stay safe</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So I started avoiding those unhealthy memories. I continued ignoring my mind's requests: pushing further once more. This worried Clark and not just a little: he always asked me if I'd eaten or at least had breakfast and gave me an apple, in order to prevent incidents such as fainting. Yes, it happened during an exam...</p><p>Then, in my 20, I saw a young student [...]</p><p>Years later, I'd met her in better circumstances[?]</p><p>It was a Sunday in which I'd decided to spend it all studying for the exam I attended the following week regarding the recent Leakey's finding and the relatives theories of the Homo sapiens' birth. So, in order to gain an excellent grade I woke up at 5 am, when Clark was still sleeping, I took all the textbooks and my lectures' notes and I headed to the university's library. Before leaving the room, I left a sheet of paper with written my schedule, just to ease Clark's worries. I've seen him pretty anxious recently.<br/>
I entered the library the first second the librarian opened the doors, likely fully-aware of my arrival. I checked the hour: 5.32 am. I gained all my will and concentration and opened the books, turned the pages and wrote notes and schemes. I was going full-speed, until I felt a pain in the stomach. When I rose my gaze from the text, I realized it was already late afternoon. The watch on the wall said 6.18 pm. My eyes were dry due tiredness and lack of proper illumination, the stomach was now rumbling loudly. Then...<br/>
A laugh?<br/>
I turn toward the chuckle, finding out it was a lady's. Wonderful curled hair. Before I could ask, she approached from her spot: the nearby table, which was full of books and sheets covered in calculations and numbers.<br/>
"I've been seeing you since 2 pm."</p><p>"Well..." I was embarrassed. I wanted no one to notice me.<br/>
"Actually, I'm here since 5:32." I said without thinking, sincerity faster than my tongue.</p><p>Her face was in conflict, not sure if it was more proper to wear a worried expression or an amused one. Nonetheless she was gasping. "And no breaks at all?"</p><p>To be honest, I was a bit annoyed someone was disturbing me along with the pain in the stomach, which I didn't care. What does she want from me?! "I don't want to waste time discussing this. If you may, I mu-"</p><p>"But that's not a waste of time!" she yelled and got silenced from the librarian and some unknown's glares. She looked enraged. She doesn't want to be questioned. She approached to my ear, almost unbelievably quiet now. "Breaks, along with meals and sleep - she underlined, pointing at my bags below the eyes - help you being more productive in your activities, study included."</p><p>I smelt coffee aroma on her table.</p><p>My Earl Grey was consumed by stillness since this morning.</p><p>She offered her right hand. "I'm Claire, by the way. It's nice to meet you."</p><p>I stared at her fingers. I didn't expect (or maybe want?) a random person willing to know me. I couldn't disappoint someone else.</p><p>After maybe too long I shook the hand. "I am Hershel." I smiled, but it faltered immediately followed suit with eye contact and the handshake. I don't deserve someone caring of me. Instead of a warm and welcoming Pleased to meet you, I just say:"Likewise." Coldly, I turn my shoulders for reading my books.</p>
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